


Licking the Spoon (The Spoon is Claire)

by desperationandgin



Series: Market Price (The Companion Pieces) [7]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, frickle frackle time, you will never look at jam the same way again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 16:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18832699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desperationandgin/pseuds/desperationandgin
Summary: Jamie and Claire innocently clean up and pack away their Farmer's Market booth.





	Licking the Spoon (The Spoon is Claire)

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in the _Market Price_ universe!
> 
> This fic is a mashup of a very specific request from @smashingteacups for some kind of food-related smut, and @jack-andthestalk requesting food stall smut. Two great ideas smooshed into one!!

“What should I do with the open samples?”

Claire looks up at Jamie, pleasantly sun-kissed from spending the day outdoors with him. There were a group of farms that rotated hosting the Farmer’s Market, and this weekend was Lallybroch’s turn. She’d volunteered to help as soon as he’d told her about it, and so she’d helped from set-up to tear down. They’re the only stall left, on Jamie’s own property as dusk begins to settle in.

“Canna re-use them, so they’ll have to be thrown away,” he laments.

“But no one sampled these few,” Claire protests, thinking it’s a shame that just because the various jams and jars of honey are open, they have to be discarded.

“‘Tis why they're only small jars, we dinna actually sell product in such low quantities,” Jamie assures her, leaning close to snag a kiss from her lips. “Once the seals have been broken and the lids popped, I canna re-use it.” When he pulls away though, he grins, raising an eyebrow. “Ye taste like ye did a fine amount of sampling,” he teases.

She at least has the good sense to look sheepish as she begins picking up the tiny sampling jars. “And good thing, too. What I didn’t eat is going to waste.”

Before he can say anything else, Jamie pauses, captivated for a moment as he watches her lick honey from the side of her thumb after catching it on the side of a jar. “Ye ken, inspiration may have struck,” he decides, moving closer to kiss the side of her thumb before taking her hand and kissing the side of her palm in search for any remnants of honey. “Do ye trust me?”

The way he asks makes her heart stutter a bit and she looks up at him. “Of course I do, Jamie.”

That’s truly all he needs to hear, pulling her into a kiss that’s slow and languid, his tongue lazily gliding over hers. With nimble fingers, he edges up her shirt and only stops when she pulls back.

“What is it, exactly, that you plan to do?” She trusts him, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t curious.

“Seeing as how we’re in this tent all alone, and the main house is a good half-mile up the road, I thought I might as well have my way wi’ ye here,” he explains as though he’s planning a normal spur of the moment outdoor activity.

“ _Outside_?”

“In a _tent_. And wi’ the samples, Sassenach. If ye take off your wee tank top, I’ll show ye.” The tank top that’s been driving him mad all day. To have her bare shoulders so close and to not be able to kiss them was the best kind of torture. The only thought on his mind for hours has been to kiss every bit of skin he can get to.

“What do the samples have to do with it?” Claire asks in confusion, not quite getting it yet.

“Weel, if ye’d kindly remove your clothing, I could demonstrate,” Jamie points out patiently. But to paint a broader picture he takes her arm and holds it out, wrist up, before lightly drizzling honey onto her wrist. Bending his head, he slowly licks it up, tongue moving over her skin until he feels her exhale. Chancing a glance up at her, he’s hard the moment he sees her eyes have gone wide, lips parting.

She’s naked within thirty seconds and Jamie kneels beside her, using the tiny half-ounce jar to drizzle more honey along her chest, over her breasts and stomach before putting it aside. Already her breathing is shallow, tongue sneaking out to wet her lips. “Are you truly doing this?”

Ducking his head, Jamie grins. “Aye.” And that’s it, before dragging his tongue along the soft, smooth curve of her breast and tugging a nipple between his lips. Honey by itself is good, but honey on _Claire_ is something else entirely. Warmed by her body, he chases the golden pools of it all along her chest, over her sides where it’s dripped down. She tastes like the outdoors but there’s a hint of something vanilla; her soap, perhaps. It mingles with the honey and he groans in satisfaction. Long minutes are spent thoroughly cleaning her upper body from all remnants of anything sticky, and he’s pleased to find her flushed and panting.

Each nipple is taut, nearly to the point of aching when his mouth moves away and Claire whimpers in protest.

“There are other things to sample,” he murmurs, taking the open strawberry jam jar and spreading it along her inner thighs. He’s careful; no need to get food anywhere to cause problems later, but when he’s done, he drags his hand up to her lips, grunting just a little when she takes the offer to lick his finger clean without prompting. As her tongue swirls around the digit, Jamie’s head bows. “Christ, dinna kill me yet,” he manages, relieved that her laugh means retreating her tongue.

“Sorry. Although you’ve been doing a fine job of building me up, yourself.”

With a flash of a grin, he shifts to lay between her thighs. “Dinna fash over that.” He’ll fix it. Pushing her legs apart a bit more, his lips press to her kneecap first, trailing kisses all the way up her thigh before slowly dragging his tongue against her skin. She’s a bit saltier here and her skin is so smooth he might as well be gliding over satin. It causes him to have a love affair with her inner thighs on both sides, spending an inordinate amount of time licking at her skin, sucking and leaving small red marks. He spreads a bit more jam right at the crease where her thigh joins her torso and when he leans down to lick, he’s surprised at the way her body jerks, as though he’s touched a live wire to it.

“Ye like that spot?” he asks, voice suspiciously hoarse. He doesn’t wait for her to answer before doing it again, and _Christ_ , the keening noise she makes gives him a cockstand so solid he aches. But he isn’t done yet, taking raspberry preserves and spreading a dollop across her stomach. As he kisses and licks he can feel the way she’s breathing, the way she’s trying in vain to control her breathing as her fingers clutch at grass. He can feel the way her belly tightens, and he circles her navel and hums. 

“Jamie,” Claire breathes out, her voice sounding far away but with an unmistakable need beneath it.

“Aye, Sassenach?” He begins kissing again, low on her torso, tongue swirling patterns across warm skin. Ducking his head lower still, his nose brushes against soft curls, unable to help a groan at being so close to where he wants to be--and where he knows she wants him.

Her hands are tugging and twisting at his shirt, feeling as though she’s vibrating with want and need that makes each touch start a tiny fire against her skin. “I need--”

“What do ye need?” he interrupts, tongue delicately dragging across the heated center of her. He isn’t sure who he’s teasing more at this point, his own breath coming in rough exhales.

Claire’s back arches, making a strangled, moaning sound. “ _You_ , Christ, I need _you_ ,” she pleads, fingernails digging into his shoulders and leaving crescent shapes in his skin.

Never has Jamie denied Claire anything, and he isn’t about to start now. Parting her with his fingers, his tongue drags across her in broad heavy strokes; the honey and berries are still on his tongue and now _she_ is; a mix of salty and sweet, the essence of her better than any single thing he could ever try to sell. He doesn’t mean to tease her quite the way he does as he luxuriates in the taste of her and the headiness of doing something no one else in the world can do for her.

It’s _agonizing_. He’s somehow everywhere at once without doing anything to make the tightly coiled pleasure release. She can feel her hips seeking more; one of her hands reaches out for him, tangling in curls at the back of his head. Claire doesn’t even realize the babbling begging and repeated moaning of his name are both sounds made by her; to her own ears, it sounds like white noise. She needs and wants and can’t concentrate on anything else.

To Jamie, it’s an erotic symphony, composed by his lips and tongue across her skin, over the most intimate places of her body. It’s a song only he can elicit, and that thought has him craving _more_ , more sounds, every arch and grasping touch she can manage. With one hand resting against her stomach, the other slides under his chin, two fingers curving into her and angling up, desperately trying not to embarrass himself at the feel of her. The moment she gives a sharp gasp and both hands reach to grip his head, he knows she’s a goner. He keeps moving, fingers stroking, lips sucking, tongue circling as he raises her up and up and up; impossibly high until her body convulses with her climax, arching toward him, legs locking around his shoulders to keep him right where he is. As if he’d move now. He’d suffocate right where he is, _gladly_. Jamie only slows down as she begins to relax, and lazily he licks her up, feeling the way she pulses and relaxes. His fingers stroke now, both hands resting on her hips and gliding across her skin until he decides she’s had long enough.

He does it all over again.

Not the honey and spreads, no, this time when he lowers his mouth over her it’s the actions of an eager man who had a taste and can never go back. He hears the strangled way she says his name, feels the way her body twists and pulls to alternately push him away and keep him right where he is. It takes seconds for her to come again, and this time, as she lays flushed and panting, his head raises so that he can look at her. For a long moment, it’s simply the sound of her panting, the night around them, and nothing else. She’s perfect, laying there with her curly bun askew, lips parted and cheeks flushed. His mouth presses to her stomach and slowly, Jamie makes his way back up her body until he’s over her, bending to brush his lips across her forehead before finding her mouth with his own.

“Come back to me, _mo nighean donn_ ,” he murmurs, thumb grazing the apple of her cheek.

It takes a few long moments, breath shaky as she drags her eyes open to look up at him. She doesn’t even know what to say as she takes in his features, the way his eyes look so blue they might be bottomless. His cheeks are flushed, hair a mess--no hiding what he’s been doing. Probably not for her either, not that she cares. “Do I get a turn?”

Jamie grins and nuzzles at her nose with his own. “What would ye like?”

“Blueberry jelly. Along your abdomen,” she decides, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth with a grin. “You’re woefully overdressed, Mr. Fraser.”

He laughs, warm in his chest and tugs her to sit up in order to remove his shirt. “‘Tis nothing the future Mrs. Fraser canna fix.”

They’ve been engaged for three weeks and she smiles so broadly that for a moment, Jamie’s sure she lights up the tent. He helps in the removal of his shirt until she reverses their positions and works to tug at his jeans and underwear. Toeing off his shoes as she works denim down his legs, Jamie can’t help but laugh at fact that the both of them are naked as newborns outside when there’s a perfectly good bedroom less than a mile away.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, turning her attention to the sample jar she wanted. Dipping her finger in, she tastes first, humming around her finger.

“Only that ye canna keep your hands off of me,” he smirks, eyes following her finger and tongue.

“I’m sorry, was I the one who started with the honey?” Asked as she begins spreading the purple-hued jelly on him.

“Aye, it was you, licking the side of yer thumb the way ye did. As if I dinna have eyes.”

Claire snorts as she makes a broad stroke with the spread. “You’re ridiculous, do you _ken_ that?”

He laughs and angles his head to try and see what she’s doing. “Aye, I do.” He pauses when he realizes she didn’t just make a mess to clean up.

“There,” she declares, looking at her handiwork. Starting just where copper curls give way to his torso, she’s written her name in loopy cursive with blueberry jelly, all the way up his chest.

“A wee bit possessive,” Jamie comments, almost blandly.

Claire looks up at him, unable to hide a smirk. “You love it.”

He breaks, grinning. “Aye, I do.”

Kneeling beside him, she lets out a breath, unable to help herself while she’s so close to where he’s hard and wanting. Reaching out, a finger glides along the length of him and she murmurs. “You feel like marble.” Lightly, she drags her finger from base to tip where she finds him already slick. “You want me, don’t you Jamie?”

His breathing has shallowed and he lets out a huff, swallowing heavily. “I think if ye touch me again like that right now--”

“Don’t worry,” she practically purrs, dragging her hand along his outer thigh now. “I’m not done with my turn yet.” Ducking her head, the tip of her tongue traces the letters of her name first, mimicking the writing and ending near enough to his head that she closes the gap to kiss him. “I suppose I should clean my mess,” she murmurs as if that wasn’t the point. Starting with the ‘e’ of her name she begins working her way down, licking and sucking at his skin. Occasionally she bites, leaving marks of retaliation from his earlier attentions. Once she gets to the ‘a’ her body moves over his, straddling him. She can feel the way his cock twitches against her belly as she finishes her trek down his stomach, ending with a love bite to his abdomen.

She knows he won’t last long inside of her, and so she waits, taking his hand and kissing the tip of each finger before guiding him between her thighs. As they lock eyes, she can see that he understands what she’s doing and lets out a breath as his fingers begin a slow circle where she’s already wet and wanting. For a moment, her eyes flutter closed as her lips part. She feels one of his hands grasp a breast, his squeeze making her gasp and jerk into his touch.

He’s waiting for the moment he knows she’ll cry out, his breathing heavy as he feels himself strain toward warmth, seeking friction. His thumb moves now, heavier, faster, and that’s when he hears it: the unmistakable hitch of her breath before a noise that makes his heart ache with need for her every time. That’s when he moves his hand from her to himself, guiding until she can sink down onto him.

As soon as she does, it’s a frenzy of hands and moving hips, both of them trying to grab for one another in sloppy, frenetic kisses. Jamie’s hands eventually drift to her hips to encourage her, thrusting up with wild abandon. He can hear the way she gasps, but more than that he feels her body around him, tight and pulsing. Her body sinks down and the sound he makes as her fingernails drag down his sides comes from somewhere deep in his chest.

Pinpricks of white light flood Claire’s vision and with one more well-placed rock of her hips, she shatters, body convulsing forward beyond her control. She can’t _think_ as pleasure spreads like wildfire up her spine. In one swift movement, she feels her body being crushed to his as he thrusts up one more time, coming, her name on his lips while she’s still shaking against his chest. She isn’t even aware of how long it takes for her to come back to herself, but when she does, she’s sitting in his lap, body tucked against him. One of his hands roams her back while the other gets lost in her hair.

“ _Criosd, tha thu bòidheach_ ,” he murmurs, nosing at her temple.

When she speaks, it’s more of a mumble. “English.”

Slowly, Jamie glides the tip of his nose along the curve of her jaw. “I said you’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“You say that every time,” she breathes out, tucking her head under his chin. It’s so quiet, the world having gone dark around them while they had their fun. She can hear the sounds of the fields and forest around them; crickets and noisy, buzzing summer insects. It all mingles and mixes with the sound of his heartbeat, the rhythm of their breathing.

“Aye, I do. And I mean it, every time. There’s no one prettier than you, Sassenach.”

“Flatterer.”

“Vixen.”

She smiles softly, tilting her head up to meet his lips.

“Future husband.”

He kisses her, pressing a smile to her lips.

“Future wife.”


End file.
